


Marlboro Golds

by newgengrandma



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cigarettes, F/M, OFC - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newgengrandma/pseuds/newgengrandma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Ben are at an event.  You've never met but he takes to you and invites you out for a cigarette.  Smut ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marlboro Golds

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic (fuck me, right?) and I'd love some feedback! Please feel free to be as harsh or as lovely as you'd like, and please enjoy!

Okay.  Okay.  Calm down.  He’s only human.  Just like you or me, or Brad Pitt, or Stephen Hawking, or Jesus.  He’s just like Jesus.

 

He’s not Jesus. You need to calm down right now or you’re going to make you faint and embarrass yourself, as you’re sure many girls do when placed in this situation.

 

Except no one is placed in this situation.

 

Because you’re the only one in this room who no one knows but who knows everyone.  You know everyone.  Especially the person sitting next to you.  Because you’ve dreamed about him ( _kissing you sweetly and delicately on your swollen sensitive lips not hard at all_

_just_

_so_

_soft_

_and yet it works every bit better than any other man could because it’s him and he knows exactly what you want_ ) every night since adolescence in vivid, full colour dreams featuring places that can’t exist and actions that can’t be described and he loves you and shows you so and he wants to be with you forever more. 

 

And now you’re touching shoulders.

 

And you don’t know what to do.

 

You’re comfortably awkward sitting sipping from your glass.  Your eyes scan the table; scan the room. Recognisable faces everywhere.  And then there’s you. 

 

Why are you here? You’ve put in so much hard work, they tell you, so much hard work to get to where you are today, I mean look at you! You’ve done your family proud! You’re a household name!

 

But those households seem not to include people over a certain salary.

 

And this is why you’re alone right now.

 

The woman next to you smiles and makes small talk.

 

“So beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” she beams at you.

 

“Yeah, gorgeous.”

 

“Is this your first time here?”

 

“It is.”

 

“Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll have a great time!” She turns away and talks to her friends.  You see her smirk with disgust as she picks up her glass.

 

Okay. So that’s one conversation ruined.  How many more tonight?

 

“Sorry, excuse me,” he says as he tries to squeeze back into his seat.

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you smile back nervously.  Inside, you’re in tears. He spoke to you.  _He_ said _words_ to _you._   This is ridiculous.  You assume it shows.  You’re grinning.  Grinning and almost certain you’ve got lipstick on my teeth.  Great combination.

 

“I’m Ben,” he holds out his hand to me and you shake it, “ and you are…?”

 

You tell him your name.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.  This is my first time here so I’m in the same position as you.”  You look at him questioningly.  “Oh, sorry, I overheard your conversation with this lady over here,” he says tilting his head towards the woman on my right, “I’m not just assuming you’ve not been here before.”  He laughs a little, an escape of breath from his heart shaped-lips, which are spread deliciously over his teeth without revealing even a glimpse ( _as he lies on top of you pushing himself into you through his trousers now tight on him where they weren’t before oh fuck o h   f u c k_

_oh_

_f        u        ck      ohfuck_

_oh_ _FUCK_

_oo           hhh_

_ffff fff  uuu   ckk )_

 

“This isn’t really my thing,” you say gesturing to your gown.  It took you four days to pick it out.  You knew he was going to be there and you wanted to make yourself look your best.  Most dresses are made for girls with perfect modelesque bodies, and that just isn’t you.  You needed something to flatter every inch, glamorous and elegant, something that’d make you look like a million dollars to him.  He who you are half a metre from.  He who you thought would be a solid two hundred times that measurement from you.  But here you are.  Inviting, with your gesture ( _that he bite your ear and whisper your name hot and steamy into you and it resonates within you sending vibrations straight to your core)_ that he look your body up and down.  Excellent.  No pressure.  “And I’m desperate for a cigarette but I don’t want my dress to smell of smoke for the rest of eternity.”

 

“I’m sure that wont be a problem, love, you can always get it dry cleaned.  In fact, I’ll pay for it to be dry cleaned if you come out for a cigarette with me.  I share your desperation.”  He winks at you.  He can’t have guessed that you’re desperate for him.  No he can’t.  He’s just making an innuendo out of the situation. Ha. Ha ha. Ha oh well ( _fuck you want him so bad you want him to pin you on this table and caress your inner thigh with his_

_wet_

_soft_

 _tongue),_ in the meantime just laugh and pretend that you feel at all confident in yourself.

 

“Yeah, sure, Ben, that’d be great.”

 

He begins to rise, politely excuses you from the table and offers his hand to help you stand. You graciously accept while flailing for your clutch.  He lets go of your hand and glares at you, with an empty expression on his face like he’s lost intently in something ( _like he’s lost within you as he makes eye contact with you just as he carefully and expertly_

_liiiiiiiiiiicksssssssss)_ but just as you begin to feel yourself beginning to blush he snaps out of it and smiles.  It takes you by surprise and you immediately concentrate on finding your half empty 20 pack of Golds and lucky lighter and hold them securely in your hand within the limited room of your clutch just to take your mind off him.

 

Soon you’re outside on the balcony looking over the streets of the city.  You offer him a cigarette and says yes. You know they’re his favourite and he smiles as you place one between his lips.  You put one between your teeth and attempt to get the lighter going.  He knows that _(you want him to go_

_f               a                s                t              e                    r_

_and put more pressure onto you but he won’t give in because he knows that you love how he teases you so gently and the thought of him teasing you even while he does it_

_heightens_

_your_

_senses_

_and)_ you’re cold so he takes the lighter from your hands and manages first time.  He lights yours first. You suck in the warm smoke in one large breath and breathe in, feeling the burn in the back of your throat that never seems to go away.  You lean your elbows on the railing and hunch your shoulders over.  Behind you, you hear him exhale.  Subconsciously, you were waiting for that, and you slowly exhale yourself.  He copies your position.  You notice how he so delicately holds his cigarette in his long, strong hand.  It moves to his face and you follow it with your eyes, landing on his, which are closed. He opens them to see you, staring at him.  This time you don’t look away.  You cant.  He’s got you trapped.  Trapped in a state of hypnosis.  This isn’t magic, it cant be magic because magic doesn’t exist.  This is real, this is happening to you, it is happening between you and him, alone in the November cold on this balcony where you are staring at him and he is staring at you and nothing can stop this, not an earthquake, not a hurricane, not a fucking zombie apocalypse can stop this look that you are sharing.  But it feels so surreal, because it’s _you_ , and then it’s _him_.  So it has to be magic, it has to be.  Magic is just trickery.  This is all just a trick he’s playing on you, to make you believe that you have a chance.  But no, he’s hypnotising you, it is real, it’s subconscious, you’re not trying to feel but you are feeling and he is feeling and then he breaks off to look at the street below.

 

Was this your fault? Was he punishing you ( _for being such a naughty girl and teasing him earlier with your longing gazes and before long his hands are running up your legs and feeling every inch of your flesh before one lonely finger joins his tongue and then_

_oo_

_oooo_

_ooooo_

_oohhh_

_hhhhh_

_hhhh_ ) for, what?  What could he be punishing you for?  Being too shy, too scared to talk to him?  He can’t do that to you, not you.

 

He took a drag from his cigarette.  “Darling, I…” he trailed off but raised his head to look at you.  “I, um… I really…I think… Fuck it.”

 

“Ben, stop. I don’t know what you’re about to say but I have an idea of what I want you to say and I really don’t want to ruin this right now.  I love the silence we can share right now, and we don’t need words.”  You shiver.  That’s the longest sentence you’ve got out this evening and you realise that with the pressure relieved comes the recognition of the space it’s left, to you right now it comes in the form of cold.

 

Ben gives you his jacket, displaying thick black braces and the rest of his gleaming white shirt which ( _touches your rawest nerves within you as you begin to squirm at every lick and curl and breath and you cling to the sheets beneath your hands as an attempt to regain control but you can’t do that because he is part of you right now and you are together on this bed in this room in this building and no one but you and him know what you’re doing right now and you are so aware of him and he is so aware of you and just as these thoughts rise he comes up to your face meeting eye to eye and he kisses you with a little more force than before and he says ready and I say oh god yes_

_and then he_

_and then he_

_and then he_

_OH!_

_you are together in mind and in body and in every single sense and it feels perfect and you feel divine and he feels divine as he runs his chest across yours and you cant help it any longer you’re ready and you’ve been ready for all these years but now it’s happening and now Ben is making you                                                         )_ come alive in the moonlight in dimensions you didn’t think were possible.  How is it a man can seem super-human even though he is only a man?  You can see his pectorals beneath his shirt, his deltoids straining against the fabric, begging to be released and you don’t even think any more because raw, vulgar, basic urges rip through you as you throw your cigarette to the ground, grab his arm and throw your body close to his.

 

And then he smiles.

 

How unnerving.

 

But then you know, as he draws in the last of his cigarette, that it’s not unnerving at all.  He holds his breath until your noses have touched and your lips are a centimetre apart.  Your lips are open, and as he gently exhales you breathe it in and close the gap between you.  Gentle, as you’ve always dreamed it would be.  You can feel the warmth of his chest against yours. You can hear both of your hearts, the cars below, the people inside, and yet the world is silent to you.

 

You break apart.  He takes your hand and begins to walk quickly through the French doors, down the stairs and out the fire exit.  You run to the end of the alley and he hails a cab.  As it pulls up, he pulls you into a hot kiss, brimming with passion and desperation.  You know what’s going to happen.  You get in the cab with him and start to giggle.  Unbelievable.


End file.
